come out of your cave
by afastmachine
Summary: Post 3x01; Emma and Hook have a moment.


The walk into the island was silent, their small group apparently still considering what she'd said. Frankly, Emma was surprised she hadn't heard anything more from Regina, considering her reluctance. Really, she didn't care about the woman's objections. Regina loved Henry; Regina would do whatever it took to find him. At least they had that in common.

No, Emma wasn't worried about the Evil Queen. She had her thoughts firmly planted in another direction.

She was pretty damn sure it was obvious he fancied her. To everyone. Even before his stupid little comment. So why did it bother her? Why, indeed? She narrowed her eyes at his back, trying to figure it out. It had to be largely physical; after all, he never shut up about the physical, about enjoyable activities and preferred attachments. Yet it stuck with her, the way he'd called her bloody brilliant and followed her without contest. The look in his eyes when he'd said it. The way he'd sat down across from her and showed her just how much he could care under that stupid fake exterior. The way he'd looked at her during her speech.

It was disturbing, that's what it was.

She picked up her pace until she was beside him, shoulders mere inches apart on the path.

"Why did you say that?" she hissed, careful to keep her voice low to avoid drawing the attention of her parents. That was the last thing she needed right now.

He turned and quirked an eyebrow at her, the hint of a smirk teasing his lips. "I haven't said a word, love. I've no idea what you're talking about."

Emma glared at him. "Don't you even pretend with me, you know damn well what I'm talking about." She waved her left arm around in an imitation of him with his hook "The whole 'Oh, I fancy you from time to time' bullshit," she added, affecting a mockery of his accent. He chuckled lowly at her and tilted his head to the side.

"Does it bother you, Swan?"

"Does _what_ bother me? That you're a cocky son of a bitch?" She crossed her arms and took a longer step forward, placing herself in front of him. Sure, he was the only one who knew where they were headed, but their path was cleared already. She didn't need to follow him.

"That I know what I want."

_Damn him_. Her feet faltered for just a second, and she cast him a glare over her shoulder. Judging from the grin on his face, he'd noticed. She turned back around and instead focused on her feet, picking up the pace. Unsurprisingly, he did the same.

"You want a quick fuck with a pretty girl, Hook. I suggest you look elsewhere, because you're not going to find me quite that easy," she tossed over her shoulder to him, not bothering to look to gauge his reaction. "It takes a hell of a lot more than a wink and a couple saucy lines to get in my pants."

"Oh, darling, I promise you, there wouldn't be anything _quick_ about it," he smoothly whispered next to her ear, catching her off guard, and she nearly hit him she spun around so fast. "Besides, you know I'd give more than a few saucy lines," he continued without missing a beat, as though she hadn't just almost assaulted him.

"Stop screwing around, and get back on task," Emma growled, shoving him forward from where they had paused.

"Ah ah ah, princess, I think you're the one who brought up screwing"

God, she wanted to punch him in his smug face. She settled for glaring daggers in his back.

"Look at me like that all you like, Swan, but it doesn't change the facts," he cast her a look over his shoulder, smirk gracing his features.

Deciding this was a battle better fought never, Emma snapped her mouth shut and bit her tongue to keep from responding. It didn't matter. They had to find Henry.

By the time they set up camp, Emma was exhausted and more than ready to collapse, so she didn't question Hook's offer to take first watch. It was a good idea, anyway. He knew Neverland, he knew what to watch for.

She was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Unfortunately, she didn't stay that way for very long. There were voices in her dreams, children crying and crying, desperate and alone. At first she tried to force herself away from the nightmare, but the voices followed her wherever she went. It wasn't long before she bolted awake, breathing heavy.

The voices didn't vanish along with her dreams.

"As much as I'd love to be the cause of your flushed skin and labored breathing, I'm forced to assume you can hear it as well?" Hook was sitting across the clearing, his back propped up against the trunk of a tree. His sword was flat on his lap, his hook cradling the blade.

Emma scrubbed at her face, choosing to ignore the innuendo.

"What is it?" she asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"Lost Boys," Hook breathed, as though the very words pained him. "They always cry. Every night. The lot of them."

"Why?" She looked around them, trying to see if there was any source, anything nearby.

He smiled sadly and met her gaze. "What do lost things always cry for?"

They fell silent for a moment, the cries surrounding them overtaking Emma's consciousness. After a few minutes it started to become unbearable, so she hauled herself to her feet and joined Hook under his tree.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, but lifted his sword obligingly so he wouldn't accidentally poke her as she settled next to him.

"Can't listen to them any more." She drew her feet in, pulling them to her chest. "Need a distraction."

Predictably, his face drew into a leer and he leaned towards her slightly. "Oh, I could _distract_ you, love."

Emma rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored him, instead sliding her fingers into her boots to press her jeans down flat. It was unnecessary, but it gave her something to do with her hands..

"Why are you doing this? Helping us. Is it because of Neal, 'cause he's Henry's dad?" She cast a sideways glance at him, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the opposite side of the clearing, where her pallet lay.

"Partially," he responded after a long moment, the words melting out of him with a sigh.

"Partially?" The instant she said it she knew it had been a bad idea. He turned to her, his eyes narrowing as he tilted his head to look at her, to examine her as though he was first seeing her.

"Do you really want me to spell it out for you lass? Here I thought I already had."

"Right, you fancy me," she said with a tilt of her own head and a roll of her eyes. She turned away from him, looking back towards her parents and Regina. It was safer over there, in the dark.

"I know deflection when I see it, Swan. Is it that hard to believe someone might truly enjoy your company?" Emma scoffed but refused to turn to him. He, in turn, refused to let it go, his hand coming up under her jaw to turn her back towards him. Still, she would not meet his gaze. He already had that uncanny ability to see right through her. It wouldn't do her any good to let him know how much it got to her.

"Swan. Look at me." He tilted her chin again, forcing her eyes to his. "Is it because of how Neal left you?" Apparently her surprise was evident on her face, because he shook his head. "It's obvious, love." His voice softened then. "I remember you on that beanstalk. You wouldn't even allow yourself to believe you had ever even loved him, that's how badly he hurt you."

Frustrated with herself for how easy she seemed to lower her walls around him, Emma wrenched herself away from him. "Partially," was all she said, turning away.

Behind her, he sighed. There was another long moment, the silence filled with the sound of the Lost Boys cries. Funny; Emma hadn't noticed how they'd faded away while they had been talking. He shuffled next to her, and then braced himself and rose up, leaving her behind against the tree.

"Where are you going?"

He looked over his shoulder, quick and curt. "Check the perimeter. Make sure there's nothing lurking out there."

Against her better judgement, she scrambled to her feet. The last thing she needed was more time around him, not when he looked at her like that, not when she was like this. "I'll go with you." He frowned, ready to object, but she continued. "You need to show me what to be aware of anyways." She gestured around the clearing. "Besides, it's not like I'm going to get any sleep here as long as that racket continues."

Hook looked at her for a long moment, something Emma couldn't quite place on his face, and it frustrated her. She was so good at reading people, but he continued to elude her. Finally, he sighed and gave a quick nod.

"Bring your sword."

The forest looked much the same it had when they had scouted the spot on arrival. There was nothing new, and despite her request, he didn't seem to find anything worth warning her of. It was startlingly uneventful, and Emma itched to say something, to start a conversation, but every time she started to say something, she caught herself. Nothing felt right, or natural.

So she traipsed behind him, the cries of the Lost Boys still loud in her ears, distracting her and wearing on what was left of her nerves. Why wouldn't they just be quiet?

"Do they ever stop?" she finally asked, breaking the silence between them. He nodded beside her, casting a glance around them at the forest.

"Aye, they should be finishing soon."

"Thank god," she said, scrubbing at her face. It had been an incredibly long day and she desperately wanted to be able to sleep. To let go of all these goddamn worries for just a few hours and sleep. Even if she knew her dreams would be filled with Henry, and they would resemble nightmares more than anything else.

She wasn't paying any attention to what she was doing, one foot in front of the other until her foot caught and suddenly she was falling forward. She threw her hands up to try and slow her fall, grasping at anything she could find, but it turned out being unnecessary. Like a cliche falling straight from the sky, a strong arm was around her waist in a second, pulling her back up and against his chest tightly.

"Crap," she breathed, glancing down at the root she had almost fallen flat over. She tried to pull away from him, but if anything, he held her tighter. "Let me go, Hook," she sighed, exasperated.

"Oh, I don't know darling, the ground might suddenly rise up again to try to trip you. I promise you're safe in my arms." He added a wink for good measure. His hand rested gently between her shoulder blades, and he pressed lightly before finally releasing her. Surprisingly, she found herself in less of a hurry to leave than she had expected. He was warm and solid, comforting, even. When she made no move to step away from him, his face softened.

"You're too tense, love," he murmured.

Emma rolled her eyes, though there was less irritation than earlier in the day. "And I'm sure you could help me _relieve a little tension_, right?"

He flashed her a winning smile. "Of course, but that's not what I meant. You'll find Henry and get off this bloody island with your family wholly intact. You're a fighter, though, as we saw earlier today, not exactly a _brawler_. You're too smart for that."

At that, she cut in. "I wasn't always a sheriff, you know. I caught people like you for a living."

"Devilishly handsome and incredibly charming?"

Seriously, if Emma kept rolling her eyes, at some point they were just going to roll out of her head and not stop until they made it back to Storybrooke.

"Criminal, with a knack for slipping off in the night."

He clutched at his chest in mock offense. "You wound me, my dear. I don't slip off in the night." A grin tugged at the corners of his lips. "I actually quite enjoy waking up in the morning with a beautiful woman."

"Yeah, until her husband gets home."

Chuckling, he dropped his hand. "I never said I was a saint," he replied, and Emma didn't even bother fighting the small smile that found its way to her face. They slipped into a comfortable silence, watching each other with appraising eyes. She knew he was trying to figure her out, to slide the puzzle pieces together because he _could_. But for once, it didn't bother her. He wasn't going to find anything he didn't already know.

The thought shook her. She'd been so worried for so long about keeping him out, that he might see something he wouldn't like, that he would push just a little too far, she hadn't even realized when he slipped around all her musings and walls and _found_ her anyways.

"Nobody has cared about me in a long time," she began, the words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the cries echoing in the forest. Hook blinked, once, twice, and refocused on her. Maybe he had no immediate comment, or maybe he just didn't want to spook her, but he said nothing and allowed her to continue. "The last man I kissed dropped dead not a minute later." Emma dropped her gaze, suddenly unsure why she was revealing this information to him. "So...yeah. Why would I want anyone want to get close to me when they're either going to abandon me, or _die_?" She tried to play it off with a lighter tone of voice, but she could tell he wasn't buying any of it.

He said nothing, and the quiet between them dragged on, the sounds of the lost boys muffled by the dull roar in Emma's ears.

"Look, I'm sorry I said anything, but you asked," she finally blurted out. "Can we please get back to camp, now, without all this bullshit between us?"

All at once, he seemed to melt, his face turning softer as he took a step forward, closing the distance between them. His hand came up to her face, thumb brushing across her cheek. It felt like something out of a movie, and Emma almost scoffed, but then he spoke.

"I don't think there's any more 'bullshit' between us, Emma," he murmured, face twisting slightly on the colloquialism. "In fact, I'd say you just threw out the last of it."

"I know what you're doing," she interrupted him, trying to pull away, but his left arm came around her waist again, preventing her from going very far. "Playing nice, playing caring. It's just another of your tools in that little arsenal of yours. I'm here to find my son, not play games with a pirate who thinks he can charm his way into my good graces."

He quirked an eyebrow at her, still holding her tight. Emma refused to acknowledge that she wasn't even trying to get away. "You seem to be implying that I haven't already succeeded." She opened her mouth to snap back a reply, to lash out, but he cut her off. "But that's not what this is about, love. I'm here to find your son too. My motives are just a little different from yours." At that, he dropped his hand from her cheek and settled in on her waist, a comfortable weight that Emma really should have thrown off.

"You shouldn't do that," she said, shaking her head.

"Do what?"

"Don't be so damn _genuine_," she hissed, refusing to look him in the eye, instead dropping her gaze to their feet where they stood, barely apart.

"Oh, I'm sorry, would you prefer I lie to you?" He sounded hurt, which surprised Emma. "Would that give you a reason to distrust me?"

"No," she blinked, shifting her eyes around the forest until they fell back on him. His fingers shifted against the thin fabric of her shirt, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. She wanted to grit her teeth and tell him to get lost, but it was _working_, and at this point, she wasn't sure what she actually wanted and what she had convinced herself she wanted. Slowly, as though she would startle herself, she raised her hands, gently letting them rest on his shoulders. His eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, instead tilting his head forward until it met hers.

It was stupid. It was out of character. It wasn't _him_, and it certainly wasn't _her_. But at the same time, it felt nice. To let go for just a moment. With the shift in the atmosphere, Emma allowed herself to relax into his hold.

He brushed his nose against hers; the simple touch felt electrifying and she simply wanted to melt into his arms. They stayed like that, arms wrapped around each other, still as statues, their breathing harshly loud to Emma's ears. Time dragged on and Emma's eyes slipped closed of their own accord. It was peaceful, for all that it could be.

"You want to kiss me," he said, voice barely above a whisper. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on her with how close she was.

"Yeah," she replied at the same volume, relishing the light brush of his breath across her lips.

"Then why don't you?"

She sighed and turned her head, the side of her forehead leaning against his now, reality nipping at her heels. "Because I _can't_. I just lost my son and his father. It's not good. _I'm_ not good. I'm not _good_." She paused and met his gaze again. "I won't put you through my problems, Hook." And the worst part was, she knew if she did it, if she kissed him, she wouldn't be able to stop. She would use him and probably do plenty of damage in the process. But she'd spent the last ten years using men who thought they cared about her. She was so tired of it, of trying to choose when to feel and when not to.

He narrowed his eyes and pulled away from her, though his arms refused to release her. "Gods, Emma, why do you insist on shutting yourself away?" She shook her head and tilted her head down, following the light tracks they had left in the dirt.

"Emma," he said her name again, this time a soft whisper. Slowly, she returned her eyes to his. He was moving back to her now, inching forward until he was so close she could feel him; if either of them moved, they'd be kissing. "Stop running," he said, his voice taking on an oddly hypnotizing lilt. God, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair and twist and pull; she wanted to kiss him like she could brand him forever, like she could make him hers with just a wish. "Please," he said, and she couldn't do it anymore.

Shifting her hands up from his waist to the sides of his face, she closed the distance and pressed her lips against his.

At first it was soft, chaste, a simple press of lips against lips, but then his lips slipped open and his teeth were nibbling at her lips, that altogether too clever tongue of his teasing against her until she opened enough to allow it to slip inside. He groaned against her, tightening his hold on her, and the sound made her practically weak at the knees. It was a ridiculous reaction, but she couldn't control it. She was tired of controlling it, of pretending she was happy in her untouchable tower. She was tired of feeling like the world rested solely on her shoulders. So she let him kiss her and breathe her in like she was oxygen and he was drowning. She let him, even knowing it would all come to ruin eventually.

Slowly, he pressed forward, backing her up until her back made contact with something solid, presumably a tree. His fingers gripped at her waist before coming up to her cheek, and he made a small desperate sound into her mouth and pressed further against her.

She didn't want it to end. It was easy. And a small part of her was terrified what would happen when it did.

As though it pained him to leave her lips, he reluctantly trailed kisses across the corner of her mouth and jaw until he reached the spot under her ear. He sucked at the skin there, nipping lightly, and she shuddered under him, a spark of heat spiking through her belly,

This was a bad idea. So bad. She twisted her fingers in his hair and gently guided him lower. He seemed to catch on quickly, following the expanse of her neck down until he reached her chest. His hand slipped down her side and he pressed a light kiss against the exposed curve of her breast. Fingers slipped under her shirt to brush against her side, and she should have put a stop to it right then, but she didn't. When they returned to camp she would have to take up the lead again, would have to set out to find her son with no idea how to do so and nothing to go on but faith and belief that she was still trying to force herself into. She needed something solid to believe in. And he was here, solid and warm and _real_. It didn't matter if what he thought he felt for her was real, it didn't matter that this was the point of no return. Not anymore. Not to her.

"_Emma_," he breathed against her skin as he inched his hand up, drawing her thin tank top up to reveal the light bra she was wearing underneath. He paused, hesitant to go any further, and met her gaze.

She nodded slightly, and he grinned, wide and so genuinely _happy_ before he pulled the shirt off of her and lowered his mouth to her covered breast. He mouthed along the lace of her bra, the texture doing horrible things to her. When he latched around her nipple and rolled his tongue across it, she nearly twisted herself out of his arms.

"Hook, Hook," she murmured, pulling his head up to meet hers. "We don't have time for this." She closed the distance and kissed him, hard and unyielding. When she finally pulled away, he was panting and wide-eyed. "I don't care about long and slow right now, okay?" She kissed him again, shifting from his lips to his jaw, and then to his neck. One hand slid down his chest until she found his belt, quickly opening it and then popping the button on his trousers. Before she could continue, he reached for her hand, pulling it away and pressing it against her own jeans.

"Ladies first," he muttered, and crouched down, yanking at her boots while she hurriedly unbuttoned and tugged the zipper down on her jeans. By the time she was ready, shoving both her underwear and jeans past her knees, he was done too, and met her half-way with a kiss, taking them from her so he could finish stripping them off. He set them in a neat pile to the side, and returned to her, kissing a line up her leg.

"Hook," she panted before he was even half-way up her leg. "We don't have _time_." He growled, but obliged and pressed one last kiss against the inside of her knee before rising. She returned to his pants, fumbling them open until she found what she was looking for, grasping him firmly in her hand. He shuddered against her, his fingers digging into her hip as he planted his hook in the tree next to her.

"Emma," he whined, low and desperate, and she obliged, giving his cock a quick stroke before she drew him out of his pants and pulled him forward with the hand around his neck. When she leaned forward to kiss him, he pressed into her hungrily, lapping up the small sounds she made. His hand nudged at her leg, pulling her flush against him as she wrapped it around his waist. The rings on his fingers were cool, but it felt nice. She was more concerned with the way he felt in her hand, hot and hard and _real_ as she pressed them together, slowly guiding him inside of her. They both whimpered into each other's mouths, the sounds swallowed up as she allowed him to thrust against her, slowly bottoming out. It had been a long time, probably too long for the type of sex they were about to have, but it didn't matter, because the stretch felt amazing and she gripped his waist tighter, rocking her hips against him.

He groaned against her and broke the kiss, his face sliding against hers until he was buried against her neck. Again, he said her name, punctuating it with a quick, short thrust. It wasn't enough, though.

"You gotta move," she murmured, her lips mere inches from his ear. "You can't do this right now." He nodded his head against the side of her neck, a fast jerky movement, but he did it, sliding out of her before pushing back in faster than before, setting a pace that wasn't exactly rough, but it was certainly _enough_. She arched her back against him, pressing their bodies as close together as she could, and let her hands slip down under his pants to his ass, pulling him against her harder with every thrust.

Hook grunted against her neck, his arm pulling her tight against him. His hand grazed the outside of her raised leg, across her thigh, like he wanted to lift it higher, but he kept moving until he reached her hip, pulling her against him.

It felt amazing, all of it, she was heady with it, the adrenaline and the fire in her belly that was only growing with every movement he made.

"There we go," he said, dropping his hand between her legs to rub at her clit. "Come for me, darling," he whispered, pressing a kiss against her shoulder, nipping at the skin lightly before he pulled away and returned to her mouth, swallowing down her soft moans. The combination of everything had her building faster than usual, and part of her scrambled to hold onto that, to not let it out of sight, because when it was over, it would be _over_, and she didn't want it to happen.

He pulled her out of her thoughts when he growled against her, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic. And just like that, she came, fell apart around him, every muscle in her body deciding at that very moment to contract and then go limp against him. His head dropped to her shoulder and he shifted position. She barely managed to hang on to him as he pounded into her again a handful of times before he too came, spilling inside of her with a muttered curse and a sharp nip against her skin. He leaned against her, pressing them both into the bark of the tree.

Slowly, Emma became aware of the burning at her back, and she shifted, lowering her leg so she could lean forward, twisting around to catch a look at her bare back. Hook stepped away from her, taking the moment to pull his pants over his hips again as he tucked himself away.

"Sorry," he said when he caught a glimpse of the red marks covering her upper back. For once, he didn't sound smug or false; he seemed genuinely apologetic. Emma waved off his concern.

"It's fine. Hand me my shirt, will you?" She leaned over to pick up her pants, quickly pulling them up her legs. He silently handed her her top, and she shrugged it on, arranging it over shoulders so it didn't look quite so thrown-on. Finally, she bent down to pull her boots on. When she straightened, he was looking at her.

"I'm sorry," he said again, and she blinked.

"I said it's fine, I'll be fine, I've had worse." She tried to offer a reassuring smile, but it fell flat when he shook his head and stepped towards her.

"That's not what I meant," he replied softly, his hand coming up, fingers moulding along her cheek like they'd always belonged there. "I'm sorry I _help_." Gently, he stroked his thumb across her cheek.

She raised her hand to his, to pull him away or not, she wasn't sure, but either way, she didn't, just held him there. When he moved forward again, closing the distance between them, she allowed her eyes to drift shut. He pressed a light kiss against her lips and then he pulled his hand away from her, taking hers with it. Her eyes fluttered open, and he smiled softly at her. His fingers slipped under her palm and he drew her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles the same way he had just kissed her lips.

"Hook," she breathed, but he was already ahead of her.

"I know." A bittersweet smile crept across his face. "Don't worry, Miss Swan, this didn't happen." He straightened slowly, and allowed her hand to drop from his. "Let's get back to camp." His head tilted to the side, and for the first time Emma noticed that something was missing.

"The voices," she said. "They're gone."

He nodded. "Aye, lass. Maybe now you can get some sleep."

She smiled tightly, a replay of all their interactions that day flying through her mind. "Yeah. Maybe."

For a long moment, he just looked at her. Finally, he shook his head and turned back the direction they had came, footsteps falling into their prints from before.


End file.
